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   Sometimes I think about all the things I wish people had told me before I reached adulthood and I start to feel lost. A deep surge of anger and resentment bubbles up inside me because the knowledge of adulthood cannot be bottled and mass produced. It cannot be passed down. It cannot be learned through initiation facades like birthdays, menstruation, first kisses, first jobs, first anythings. It cannot be taught in a classroom by the wise. It cannot be voted for. It cannot be advertised. It cannot be induced. It cannot be showcased. It cannot be delivered or deduced. 

   Growing up isn't sixteen. It isn't even eighteen. It isn't watching horror movies or reading forbidden books. It isn't getting drunk. It isn't the first time someone calls you a woman, or even a "lady". It isn't being assaulted for the first, second, or third time. It isn't the "I love you" or the "I love you too's". It isn't therapy. It isn't getting in the driver's seat. It isn't self-checkout. It isn't your payslip, your job, your boss, your workload, your reusable coffee cup. It isn't the first time somebody dies. It isn't when you're hurting and you don't even cry. It isn't writing greetings cards and sending them on time. It isn't saying sorry or staying up late. It isn't forgiving and forgetting when someone you trust lies. It isn't watching the news or not watching the news. It isn't forgetting what it feels like to run, the wind whipping tears from your eyes. It isn't swallowing your pride. It isn't saying "I feel so old!" at twenty-five. It isn't learning that you were abused. It isn't forgetting what you looked like as a child. It isn't working hard and working long. It isn't referring to "the youth" with a sigh. 

   It isn't standing shoulder-to-shoulder with adults who used to look so tall and feeling overwhelming waves of solidarity, empathy, grief, love, betrayal, pride, indifference, and disappointment. It isn't feeling entitled to being warned. It isn't the lesson that some dogs bite. It isn't the paralysis of childhood and adulthood being two sides of a helpless coin. It isn't making bad choices or making good ones. It isn't eating chocolate for breakfast. It isn't the realisation that everyone along the way tried to tell you and you ignored it every step of the way. It isn't running away from grief. It isn't trying to grow up and show everyone you can succeed, you can learn, you can graduate, you can work, you can love, before they pass away. It isn't screaming at your younger self every day. It isn't reaching the finish line. It isn't the daily run, the daily grind, the daily puzzle, the daily trend. 

   It isn't regret. It isn't being "on the mend". It isn't trying to turn back time. It isn't listening to old songs that make you cry. It isn't wishing you had tried. It isn't watching war on tv. It isn't recycling. It isn't making kids laugh and being silly. It isn't acknowledging when you've been the the bully. It isn't staring out the car window. It isn't telling lies. It isn't tweeting, reading, joking, advising, deriding, agreeing, demeaning, or uplifting. It isn't having a panic attack or daydreaming. 

   It isn't deciding what it isn't. It isn't writing about it. It isn't not taking responsibility. It isn't having a story and still not being brave enough to share it. It isn't needing everything to be perfect. It isn't feeling one way when you started it and another when you finished it. 

   It isn't not knowing anything at all. It isn't feeling alone. It isn't being distracted by your phone. It isn't learning to trust, learning to be better, learning to let it be undone.

It isn't all this growing for nothing at all.